Across the High Sierra

I have always enjoyed long road trips across the country, perhaps because they have all the elements of a Homeric adventure. After completing basic training for the Army, I was ready for assignment to my permanent duty station. I was directed to travel from Norfolk, Virginia to Monterrey, California, so I flew home to Wisconsin and prepared to drive the rest of the way. My 1964 Dodge Polara had been purchased for $125 during my last year in high school, and I naively anticipated the adventure of driving nearly 2,500 miles across the continent. As I crossed the Minnesota border early on the first morning out, it occurred to me that I had just driven the farthest distance of my entire life. This was also to be my first time completely alone, and I savored the thought of the next week spent on the open road.

I picked up the small state highway to Northfield, reportedly the scene of Jesse James